


ready to go (lead me into the light)

by captainharkness



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Author Makes Up Space Stuff, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Possible Consent Issues - see end notes for details, Truth Serum, sad handjobs reign supreme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainharkness/pseuds/captainharkness
Summary: Jack gets hit with a colossal dose of truth serum, just as The Doctor drops by for a visit.Set, precariously, sometime after Last Of The Time Lords.





	ready to go (lead me into the light)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Doctor Who/Torchwood, but I started rewatching a few weeks ago and the idea came to me, and turned out about 4000 words longer than intended. I actually wrote it to get out of a slump I've been in for a few weeks, so hopefully it came out alright!! There are some potential very light drug-related issues of consent, but if that's an issue, I've given details at the bottom.
> 
> Title from ET by Katy Perry, which is disgracefully well suited to them.

“Wait- who the  _ fuck  _ are you?”

Guns.

He sighed. Humans and their guns.

Fishing his psychic paper out of his pocket, he held it up, walking straight past the cocky human with the sharp jawline and the unnervingly unwavering weapon pointed at him, “I’m the Doctor, from Torchwood Eight. Just dropping by, you know. I was in the area.”

It was very  _ Torchwood _ . He hadn’t seen Torchwood Three before, but if someone had asked him to draw what Jack Harkness’ Torchwood base would like like, it would have almost definitely included a pterodactyl. And the secret hidey base under the city center was a nice touch too, even if he was sure it appealed more to a sense of the dramatic than a need to hide.

“Torchwood Eight?” Gun Man said, “Never heard of it. Tosh?”

“Owen, put the gun down,” a voice behind a computer screen said, apparently disinterested with his flimsy cover story. Gun Man - Owen - glared as he lowered his weapon. Reluctantly. “Ianto wouldn't have let him in without the proper credentials. Did you say  _ doctor _ ?”

The full effect of Jack’s team - as he’d been informed by the friendly Welshman upstairs - came into sight; Owen, Toshiko, and Gwen. That every one of them was young and attractive and seemingly brilliant didn’t go unnoticed, and he barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But Jack’s appreciation for pretty humans was only trumped by his frustration with incompetence. He was sure that they had all earned their place on the team.

He came round to Toshiko’s computer, pulling a chair up and shaking her hand, “Yes, Doctor. Don’t ask what of, it’s just Doctor stuff. Y’know, for Doctors.”

“Well, I’m sure you can share, I’m a doctor, too,” Owen put his gun pointedly on the desk beside him. 

“A doctor who likes guns!” he replied, moving the offending item further away without looking away from the screen, muttering under his breath, “Humans. You never fail to surprise me.”

Owen opened his mouth to retort, no doubt something fantastically clever and witty, but The Doctor wasn’t paying attention, “Is that a chemical scan for roxacycol-B12? What are you doing with that? It shouldn’t turn up on Earth for another four hundred years.”

“Three unidentified aliens fell through the rift yesterday afternoon, started causing trouble,” Owen supplied.

“What do you know about it?” Toshiko asked, “Because you’re right, we’ve never seen it before. Never seen anything like it before. All we know is-”

Owen cleared his throat.

The Doctor eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t press it further, “Roxacycol-B12 is a sort of truth serum. It doesn’t pop up in this galaxy very often but you get it all the time in the Delta Peleus Cloud. It attacks the  parietal cortex in most species and temporarily rewrites the neural pathways between that and the nucleus accumbens. Fairly harmless in small quantities. I went to a roxacycol party once.”

Toshiko and Owen were staring at him.

“Was… was that TMI? I’m sorry, I can never tell with humans.”

“Nevermind that,” Owen said, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Is it dangerous?”

“Only if you ingest a lot of it, but I’ve never seen anyone drink enough of the stuff for it to do them any harm.”

“And you’re sure this is roxacycol?” Toshiko pushed.

“Well, yes-”

“What about other side effects?” a voice came from behind them. He turned around. “Could it make people do… stupid things?”

The Doctor beamed, “You’re  _ Welsh _ ! Oh I love a good Welshperson. Great pies. I’m The Doctor.”

“Gwen Cooper,” she said flatly, as if he’d just told her that her t-shirt was unflattering, “Um, thanks? But, side effects?”

“Oh, of course!” he said, “I mean, it’s been known to cause imbalance in the prefrontal cortex, but it’s effects on humans are pretty unknown. Like I said, you aren’t due to get it on this planet for half a millenia.”

Gwen gave him A Look, but apparently Owen understood what it meant, “The prefrontal cortex is in charge of impulse control. And if the pathways between the parietal cortex and the nucleus accumbens are being affected, I’m guessing that the brain starts producing dopamine whenever the person tells the truth.”

“So, what? It makes you feel good when you tell the truth?” Gwen asked.

“Quick learner,” The Doctor said, and Gwen beamed, “Jack should know this, you know. I swear he spent some time in-  _ Jack _ !”

All three of them jumped back at his exclamation, his chair sliding backwards as he stood up. He’d gotten distracted again. Oh, he loved a good unknown chemical. Loved watching humans discover how big the universe was around them. But he should really learn to stop getting derailed. Not that he’d come to Cardiff for Jack. He’d just been in the area.

“Jack,” he repeated, “Captain Jack Harkness. He’s still here, right? Big coat.”

Owen, Toshiko and Gwen looked at each other nervously.

“Jack was captured yesterday by the unidentified aliens,” Toshiko said slowly, “We found him, but they had interrogated him, and we think when we stormed the building they panicked and tried to kill him by overdosing him on this chemical.”

Jack Harkness with an impulsive-control destroying drug in his system. There were  _ surely  _ more dangerous combinations to set loose on the world, but he couldn’t quite think of any in that immediate moment.

“Ah.”

“Is he in danger?” Toshiko asked. Her face was writ with genuine concern and worry.

So he hadn’t told them.

The Doctor paused, “Nah.”

Owen looked at him strangely, “Nah?”

“Nope!” The Doctor agreed, “But, where is he? I’ll just double check. I’m a doctor, after all.”

The worst case scenario wouldn’t even be that he died. Jack would come back, right as rain. But if he was taking steps to conceal his immortality from his team, it wouldn’t do for them to walk in on his corpse. The least he could do is stall that particular conversation a little longer for him.

Toshiko flicked a button on the wall beside her, “Jack? You awake?” There was a noise of affirmation from the speakers overhead. “Come into the central hub, there’s a friend here for you.”

The Doctor wasn’t entirely sure bringing Jack into a room full of people in his current state was the best idea. His impulse control wasn’t exactly water-tight on a normal day, and if he wasn’t able to lie, it could lead to some truly awkward questions about his identity. And The Doctor’s.

Before he could object, Jack walked through the door. He looked exactly the same - of course he did. A little paler, and his hair was a mess, but it was still undeniably Jack. Something dark and wrong still itched at the back of his mind when he looked at him, like staring at a light for too long. But he held his eye contact. He knew how much it hurt Jack that the Doctor thought of him as  _ not right _ . He’d wronged him enough times.

“Doctor,” He sounded out of breath, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Afternoon, Captain,” But Jack was already making his way down the stairs, “Love what you’ve done with the place-”

Jack slammed into him like a brick wall, his back hitting Toshiko’s desk, sending some odds and ends falling to the floor. It wasn’t that he hadn’t predicted an enthusiastic welcome; Jack’s social boundaries rarely lent themselves to a pleasant handshake and a  _ how’d you do _ . Any attempt to dissuade him of his vivacity were lost, however, when he found himself supporting both of their body weight with a hand on Toshiko’s desk. Jack glued himself to The Doctor’s front, fists gripped tightly in his jacket, mouth pressed steadfastly against his.

It was… different.

Jack kissed everyone. That was just what Jack did. Jack had even kissed him before. But there was something in the desperate way he craned upwards, the weight of his body leaning so heavily against him, the hand anchored in his hair. Like he was trying to say something, screaming it, in fact. Some unknown fact, like Jack himself.

He was defenseless to stop it, stuck between an immovable time agent and a steel desk. And if it flooded his chest with warmth, he wasn’t the one doped on intergalactic truth serum. No one needed to know.

Somewhere, behind him, Owen slapped the desk triumphantly, “ _ Hah _ ! I  _ knew  _ it!”

\---

“So,” The Doctor said, running his sonic screwdriver over Jack’s temple again, just to be sure, “You’re not dead.”

“Not anymore,” the other man replied dejectedly, “The OD killed me, but by the time I came back, I hadn’t metabolised it all.”

The Doctor had managed to extract himself from between Jack and the desk, though Jack had kept a hand tight around his wrist. It made sense; he was a tactile person, it wasn’t unusual for him to maintain some kind of physical contact, especially with his impulse control in tatters. Eventually, he’d taken him into the TARDIS, to ensure there was no lasting damage, and to see if he had any antidote on board. At least they couldn’t make Toshiko any more embarrassed, and Owen could keep most of his comments to himself. 

Jack kept his grip on The Doctor’s wrist, sat on the couch in the console room while The Doctor knelt in front of him. The readings were coming back clear. There was still a lot in his system, but he was burning through it at a healthy pace. It’d be just a few more hours before he was back to normal.

“What was it in, in the end? The aliens?”

“Couple of slythoe, caught in the time rift and dumped out right in the city center.”

“Ahh, well, that explains the roxacycol,” he said, “Their Imperial Guard use it all the time. Your team are still trying to figure it out, you know. Why didn’t you tell them?”

Jack blinked a few times as if he’d forgotten about them, “I haven’t had the chance. I thought it was best if I separated myself from them, just until the effects wore off.”

The Doctor levelled him with a stern look.

“There was… an incident, when they found me,” he said, sheepishly, “with Gwen.”

He couldn’t help laughing under his breath, even while Jack shook his head.

“She’s wearing very tight jeans, okay-”

“Nothing changes with you, does it?”

Something shifted on Jack’s face, so much more open than usual, something dark, something sad, “No, and nothing ever will.”

The lines of his face, even though they showed no signs of aging, hinted at something much more unusual. Not maturity, but some kind of weight upon his shoulders. When Jack had rejected his offer to travel in the TARDIS, he’d said it was responsibility that had kept him in Cardiff. The Doctor looked out to where he knew Jack’s ragtag team of soldiers was stood, the ones who were so worried about him, their captain. He knew that urge to keep people around you, ones who loved you, and to keep them alive, because survival instinct meant nothing to the ones who couldn’t die.

“Wouldn’t take you any other way, though,” he said quietly.

It was jarring to see Jack’s emotions play so clearly across his face, the man who wore his smile like a glove and could con the best con man, if there were a better one. His eyes opened wide, his mouth slack. He looked vulnerable. 

“Even though I’m wrong?”

The Doctor blew a breath out through his nose, “Everything that has happened… I’m starting to wonder if you are wrong. Or just another piece in a universe that keeps breaking. Jagged little shards that won’t ever quite fit together perfectly again.”

“I’m broken.”

The Doctor looked at him sharply, “You’re not broken.”

Jack winced, squeezing his eyes shut, his teeth grinding together. Immediately, The Doctor pulled his arm out of Jack’s grip, scanning his body for any internal conflicts.

“What is it?” he asked, the scans coming up clear, or at least, as clear as to be expected. Jack just shook his head.

“It’s just, this stuff-” he grit out, “It’s messing with my head. Christ, it hurts. It aches.”

“Stop fighting it, it’ll hurt less if you just go with it.”

Jack laughed bitterly, “I don’t want to say anything that’s coming into my head, Doctor.”

He had to bite his cheek, guilt tampering down the curiosity… there would be no better time to get the answers he wanted from Jack. A man with nearly as many secrets as him, who’d lived as many lives, seen as much, done as much. And for the first, and maybe only, time, he could get the truth. Not some half myth spun through a charming smile, but the truth. Maybe it would be his only chance at understanding this Fact, this anomaly.

But as much as he wanted to dive into that brilliant, complicated, impossible brain, it felt so  _ wrong _ . It felt corrupt and cruel. If their positions had been reversed, it would have terrified him. Taking advantage of his friend like that, it would be unforgivable. 

Instead, he pressed his thumb into Jack’s temple, massaging lightly. Jack followed the pressure with his head, leaning his face into The Doctor’s hand, who watched with some amusement.

“Just tell me something true,” he said softly. Jack made a questioning noise, his eyes still shut, still pushing his face into The Doctor’s palm. “Tell me something true, trigger the side effects of the serum, and hopefully the dopamine release will ease your headache.

“The more you fight it, the more it’ll hurt.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully, “The best sex I ever had was on Kryon-4 with the High Priestess Elianor and her manservant, Xo.”

The Doctor laughed softly; he wasn’t sure why he was expecting anything else.

“Of course you took the 14th Priestess of the Ratriki System to bed.”

“Fucked,” Jack corrected, voice muffled against The Doctor’s skin, “We  _ fucked _ , and we never made it to the bed.”

The Doctor shifted to sit on the floor at his friend’s feet, in a more comfortable position. If they were to be sat waiting for the serum to filter out, they might be there for a while, after all. He thought about taking his arm back, but Jack seemed pleasantly preoccupied by it, and certainly less agitated with the contact than without it. It was a sacrifice he could make.

“I didn’t realise there was a distinction to be made,” he said eventually.

Jack laughed, teeth scraping against the skin of his wrist, “That doesn’t surprise me.”

It felt suspiciously like being mocked, but The Doctor wasn’t about to get into a conversation about sex and semantics with Jack Harkness. He knew when to pick his battles.

“What about,” he said, thinking, “your favourite place? What’s the best place you’ve ever been?”

There was barely a pause before he answered, “It’s here.”

Cardiff. All the universe and Jack’s favourite place was Cardiff. He supposed that it had been here that Jack had wanted to stay instead of travelling with The Doctor; picking Wales over the whole of time and space. Maybe it wasn’t that surprising after all.

The weather was a bit crappy, but they had good pies. And people. Oblivious, ignorant, magical people. Jack was human, after all, maybe not from Earth originally but she was in his genes. He wondered if that was half the appeal. People lived to find their tribes, whether it be making a family or building one all their own, taking a lover or joining a Book Club. Torchwood were Jack’s people, that was clear, but maybe, in a wider sense, it was just Earth. 

“I like it here, too,” he said simply.

Jack just hummed contentedly.

“You’re quiet,” The Doctor pointed out, “Why are you quiet? I thought r oxacycol would make you manic, all those impulses in that tiny brain of yours.”

“That’s rude,” Jack muttered, but his eyes were still closed and he was still nuzzling The Doctor’s hand like an over affectionate puppy, “Relaxed. No impulses, just relaxed.”

“All you needed was a day off, how about that, huh?”

Jacked laughed gently, and he felt it more than he heard it, warm breath against his palm. He was right, it was relaxed. Even with Jack high as a kite, there was no impending doom, no alarms, no wars to fight, no running. Just the quiet company of his friend, no matter how altered his current mental state.

Content as he was, he fondly ran his free hand through Jack’s unruly hair, grinning at the way he seemed to arch into it.

“That feels good,” he said, and The Doctor laughed.

“I’ll bet,” he agreed. It was half tempting to tease him some more, really rack up some good wind up material for when the roxacycol wore off and he could really take the mick, but his more mature side won out. Besides, teasing contests with Jack didn’t seem like something he’d come out of unscathed, no matter how tempting they were.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve got any antidote on board, but I do have some heavy duty sedative,” The Doctor said, resuming his massage of Jack’s temple to the best of his ability with the limited movement he had in his hand, just to watch him lean into it, “and if relaxing is keeping you out of trouble, maybe sleeping it off will help.”

“Can’t sleep,” Jack grimaced, “Owen will draw dicks on my face.”

That didn’t sound out of the realm of possibility. Bloody humans.

“Sleep here,” he replied, “The TARDIS still has your old room up.”

“I thought she didn’t like me.”

There was something detached in his tone that didn’t settle right in The Doctor’s stomach.

“She got over it,” he said promptly, getting to his feet, “So, nap?”

Jack looked up at him, eyes slightly glazed over, but he nodded, dragging himself upwards. He let go of The Doctor’s hand, but immediately leaned heavily into his side. Whether it was some other side effect of the roxacycol, or Jack was just really needy under the influence, he couldn’t hold it against him too long. Throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulders, he attempted to steer them both towards where he knew Jack’s old room was, untouched since he left it. It wasn’t easy with the full weight of the time agent pressed as firmly to his side as he could physically manage, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice. Like old times, even.

The TARDIS typically moulded around a person’s needs, so it was no surprise that Jack’s room was a mess of different eras; a twin bed in cast mahogany, piled high with soft cushions and sheets, every surface seemingly scattered with scrap and trinkets from every possible galaxy and time. It was the very definition of hedonism, rich in history, and so very Jack.

The Doctor couldn’t do much but dump him unceremoniously on the bed, but he didn’t seem to mind, stretching out like a cat. He’d grabbed the sedative on the way, and Jack barely flinched at the injection.

“Sleep it off, Captain,” The Doctor said, more than a little fondly. There was something about Jack in his current state, all soft and pliant, that was endearing. Maybe it was just nice not to have him strutting about like a peacock all the time.

The sedative was already beginning to work, but Jack’s hand reached out to grab him - his hand, as it turned out.

“I sleep better with someone here.”

He opened his mouth to tell him to stop it - old habits - before remembering that Jack was incapable of lying. It made him pause. It had to be the truth, there was no way he could have metabolised all of the roxacycol in his system. 

“I want you to stay,” Jack said, voice soft. The sedative was taking effect. He’d be asleep in minutes.

The Doctor swallowed. There was no harm in staying, just until he was asleep.

He lay beside Jack, who immediately turned towards him, almost on instinct. They were so close, but Jack didn’t press, just lay with his eyes closed, breathing slowing with every second.

He could kiss him. The thought appeared so suddenly that The Doctor almost flinched at it. But almost instantly, the idea latched itself to his brain, and he wondered if he could get Jack to kiss him as hard as he had before, to push into him desperately, or if he’d let The Doctor press him back, get a hand in his hair, push his thin white shirt off his shoulders-

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, willed his head to shut up before Jack somehow managed to hear it. It was wrong, to think of his friend like that when he wasn’t able to think for himself. No doubt Jack would find unending amusement in his internal conflict, but somehow, that didn’t make it any better.

Jack. Jack, who was fast asleep, dead to the world. Jack, who picked a rainy Welsh city and his team over The Doctor. Jack, who he definitely didn’t come back for, in some hope that he could fill a space left after everyone - Rose, Martha, even Jack himself - had left. Jack, who had kissed him like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do.

The bed creaked quietly as he lifted himself off of it, but the other man gave no indication that he noticed his companion leave, leaving him to rest in the dark.

\---

Jack slung his coat over his shoulder, not a hair out of place. It would have been impossible to tell that only a few hours before, he’d been sedated into a near coma, while his body was burning through a poison, but that was Jack. Throw him as hard as you could and he’d always come bouncing back.

“I should probably go and catch my team up on the situation,” he said, calm as anything, “No doubt they’ve all come up with a barrage of hilarious jokes to throw my way.” Jack made his way towards the front door, “You never did say what brought you back to Cardiff, but if you’re still here when I’ve caught up with these slythoe, I owe you a coffee for the sedative.”

He was just feet away from leaving, and maybe he was just going back to the Hub, a few meters away, but Fate had a nasty way of pulling them apart. Days turned into years and suddenly it had been a lifetime since they saw each other. And The Doctor was too curious to let another lifetime pass before asking. 

“Why did you kiss me?”

Jack looked at back him, hand already outstretched to open the door, smile painted across his face, “C’mon, you’re an attractive guy. And you know I love that suit.”

It was hollow. It might have been true, but it wasn’t the  _ truth _ . Jack could play it off with a joke and a smirk but he needed to know. He wanted to know and he wanted Jack to tell him.

“Why did you kiss me  _ like that _ ?” The Doctor repeated, “It was different. You’ve kissed me before. What’s changed?”

His smile flickered for just a second, for one blink-and-you-miss-it moment, until it shifted into something almost self-deprecating. Jack leant against the bannister by the front door, jacket slung over his shoulder, looking for all the world like this was a normal conversation.

“You speak every language in the universe,” he said, “but not this one?”

The Doctor let his hands trail over the console as he walked over to where Jack was stood, keeping his eyes off his friend. Something told him that this mattered. This was important. Some pesky human element that could change everything. Messing this up could ruin his friendship with Jack, the only person he’d always have. It made him nervous.

Actually, it terrified him.

“So translate for me,” he said, finally coming to stop, leaning next to Jack on the bannister, “What were you trying to say?”

A thousand expressions seemed to play over his features, before his mouth set in a stubborn line, his chin raised in a challenge, “Why are you in Cardiff?”

“I asked first.”

Jack scoffed, “How old are you again?”

The Doctor smiled, despite his best efforts, but he didn’t reply. Jack just shook his head in disbelief, throwing his jacket over the bannister and turning so he was facing The Doctor. He put his hands either side of him, boxing him in, stood close enough that The Doctor could feel his single beating heart if he tried.

“You know why,” Jack leant forward, brash and cocksure as ever.  _ Nothing changes with you. _

He knew his habit of picking fights with the wrong people got him into trouble. That he should learn to back down, learn to compromise. He should know that playing with fire got him burned, but wasn’t that half the fun?

So he stayed his ground, looked his friend in the eye. He hoped Jack was better at understanding than he was, hoped he knew to read _ I’m not backing down _ between the lines. The Doctor leaned forward, just an inch. Just enough to bring their faces closer together, so he could feel Jack’s breath on his cheeks.

“Why,” he asked again, slowly, “did you kiss me?”

Jack’s eyes slipped shut as he made a noise of frustration, falling forwards so his forehead rested on The Doctor’s, almost as if to push him away, but The Doctor just pushed back. He was aware, in the back of his mind, they probably looked ridiculous, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. This needed to happen.

“Tell me,” he said, words that sounded too loud in the confined space they shared, even if they got caught in his throat on the way out, “what you wanted me to hear. What were you trying to say-”

“I missed you, okay?” It sounded harsh and angry, but Jack’s hands came up to frame his face, and The Doctor was gripping his wrists even though he didn’t realise he’d moved his hands, “I missed you, and I needed you to know- I needed you to understand, I thought if you understood then-” He paused, opening his eyes, breathing deeply as if he’d been running, “then maybe you wouldn’t leave me again.”

His fingers had slipped under the fabric of Jack’s sleeve, smoothing over the steady beat of his pulse. It seemed thunderously loud, that tiny constant paradox. The rhythmic sound of a mortal heart in an immortal man. An insignificant noise trapped inside the only thing the universe could never change.  _ Nothing changes with you _ . Maybe, something should.

His friend, who he always seemed to leave behind.

Maybe something should change. 

“Doctor,” Jack said, a little desperately. He wondered how long he’d been listening to his pulse, “Why did you come back here?”

He let his head droop just enough so that his mouth hovered directly over Jack’s. The time of hoping he’d hear him calling out into the emptiness was over; it was time to be heard. To scream.

The movement of his lips caused them to brush over Jack’s as he spoke. It was some mockery of a kiss, something too close and not close enough, but as long as he was listening, it didn’t matter;

“Because I missed you, too.”

Seemingly the words had barely left his lips before Jack closed what little space there was between them. The hands on his face that had held him still suddenly were pulling him impossibly closer, a grounding pressure at the base of his skull. A tangible plea for  _ more _ . The action was sudden but he was ready for it this time, wasting no time in returning Jack’s kiss.

It wasn’t like before, it was different. It was better. The Doctor wasn’t shocked into stillness, and Jack had all his mind. This was just them, just two beings who wanted each other, the simplest thing in the world.

Nothing else seemed to matter. He didn’t even realise they’d been moving until the back of his legs hit the couch, and he was falling down, but then Jack was coming down with him. Suddenly, he was very glad for Jack’s confidence in the matter, as his brain appeared to suffer a short circuit as his friend climbed into his lap.

“You okay, Doctor?” It sounded casual enough, but he knew when Jack was being serious.

He nodded, “Doing good here. All good. Fine and dandy.”

Jack smiled, like nothing he’d seen before, leaning forwards to kiss him again. He stopped, just short of contact, “Are you sure?”

What The Doctor intended on coming out of his mouth was  _ “yes” _ , but what seemed to come out instead was, “Tell me again.”

It was testament to Jack’s ability to roll with the punches that he didn’t seem phased by his companion’s oddities at all, just kissed him once, twice. His hands worked at removing The Doctor’s jacket with single minded determination as he muttered, “I missed you,” into his mouth.

The Doctor set to work on Jack’s shirt buttons as Jack let his mouth trail down The Doctor’s jaw, faint kisses all the way to his ear, whispering “I missed you,” as he went. Something in the apologetic, almost reverent, tone of his voice made The Doctor’s hands tremor, struggle on the buttons until he could finally remove the offending item. He tugged Jack’s undershirt over his head, the heat of his bare skin a welcome contrast to the cool of the inside of the TARDIS.

Running his hands over Jack’s chest, he felt the skin, the heartbeat, felt the electrical impulses run through his body like static shocks. So alive. So fantastically alive. Jack dragged his face up to kiss him again, so thoroughly he could do little more but hold on.

“I didn’t know when I’d see you again,” he muttered, like confession, so quiet The Doctor almost missed it as it was said against his mouth, “I didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

The Doctor felt the muscles twitch under the skin as he ran a hand lightly up Jack’s spine, clutching at a handful of his hair, letting his nails scrape over the scalp. It took him a moment to find his voice, lost at the back of his throat.

“I didn’t,” he started, but his voice felt raw, “I didn’t want to leave you here.”

Jack kissed him hard, like he had in the hub. The Doctor let him, let him say what he needed to say without words, because somehow, it made sense. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out as they seperated, “I’m sorry I didn’t come-”

“It’s okay,” The Doctor held him as tightly as he could, kissed whatever patch of skin his mouth fell to. He didn’t understand, but they both had too much time ahead of them to hold onto a grudge over a lost few months. With Jack where he was, it barely seemed to matter where he’d been before. “It’s okay-”

Jack wrapped a hand around his length and suddenly all the air seemed to leave his lungs at once, a whole universe of sensation centered on a single thing. Good manners kicked in after a second, and he fumbled with the fly of Jack’s trousers. He was vaguely aware of Jack laughing at him, so he set to kissing him well enough that he forgot how to laugh. 

Everything about Jack was so  _ warm _ , so real. He ran his hand up his cock, watched his eyes flutter shut for a moment, his mouth open to suck in air. Something so simple, yet completely entrancing. He didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want it to stop, he just wanted to keep this moment forever. 

“Tease,” Jack muttered, running his thumb over the head of The Doctor’s own cock, and suddenly, he was much more conscious of their position. 

“My bad,” he replied, kissing the delicate skin where his jaw met his neck apologetically. Jack shivered, nipping at his neck back.

“Cheeky.”

The Doctor stifled a laugh, kissing his way back up Jack’s neck until he found his mouth, hand setting a steady pace on his cock. They were both shivering, pressed tight together, warm despite the cold air. Everything in The Doctor’s vision was Jack; his eyes shut, his hair falling his face, mouth parted open. Like it was just the two of them, nothing else left in the world.

God, he wanted it to last. He wanted to stretch it out forever, but it was already too much. Just from this. Part of him wanted to push Jack off of him, lead him down the corridors until they found a bedroom. Undress him slowly. Take their time. Kiss every inch of his body. Commit every detail to memory. To make up for every lost second that they weren’t doing this.

Jack finally got all the buttons on The Doctor’s shirt undone, shoving it off him as much possible without sacrificing contact. His skin prickled as it was exposed in the cold air, but Jack’s hand was warm as he trailed it up his stomach. 

“God, I dreamed about this,” he murmured, a thumb pressing over The Doctor’s nipple, making him jolt, “You have no idea how long I have wanted to do this.”

The admission, spoken so softly between them, almost like a prayer, made him ache.

“I wish you had,” he whispered, half choked on an incredulous laugh, “We could have saved so much time.”

Jack kissed him, teeth catching on his bottom lip, and he didn’t know whether to startle backwards or push forwards and ask him to do it again, “We got here, right when we meant to.”

He slowed his hand to an agonizing tease, dragging each stroke out until The Doctor’s mouth went slack against his neck, his body shaking. Trying to grasp for one last shred of self-control, and ignoring the pressure building at the base of his spine, he focussed on Jack. Focussed on where to apply pressure that made his heart beat harder. The Doctor kept his grip firm, trailed open mouth kisses across his companion’s neck, his collar bones, tasting the sweat that had gathered there. It felt strangely intimate, considering their position, in a way that made him want to never let go.

“Look at you,” he said breathlessly. He didn’t even know if Jack would hear him, “You beautiful, impossible man.”

Jack whined, panting into his shoulder. The hand that wasn’t working up and down his cock was tight in The Doctor’s hair, whether holding him close or just holding on, it was unclear. 

Around them, the TARDIS hummed. It was so soft that the only thing he could hear was Jack breathing heavily against him, the obscene sound of skin and the beating of his own hearts.

“Doctor, I,” Jack started, voice wrecked, “I need, please-”

The Doctor nodded, not quite consciously. He knew. He understood what Jack meant even if he was as helpless to put it into words as his companion. Steeling himself, he let the flood of sensation roll over him in waves, like warm water and white noise. Jack shook above him, muttering lost words into his neck until his voice choked and he gasped, finding his release. It was that more than anything that pushed The Doctor over the edge; the sight of Jack, always so put together, rasping and clutching at him. It was somehow vulgar and beautiful and shameless perfect, all at once.

They stayed like that for a few moments before extracting themselves, stiff and uncomfortable in their cooling mess. The Doctor watched, almost hypnotized, as Jack got up and stretched. He’d expected a moment of awkwardness, but he felt only affection. Jack kept swiping at his face, as if to wipe his smile away. He found himself returning it.

“So,” Jack said, eventually, shrugging his shirt back on, “I should probably, y’know. Go.”

He indicated the door, back out to the hub. The Doctor felt his smile fade, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. He pulled his own shirt back over his shoulders, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. 

“You’re leaving?” he asked. He hoped his voice sounded casual, but it still felt a raw, and in the end, it just sounded  _ wrong _ . Jack looked up, a strange expression on his face.

“Well, yeah,” he said slowly, “I’ve gotta go catch a couple slythoe and find a way of getting them back to  the Delta Peleus Cloud before they truth serum my whole city.”

The Doctor nodded, “Right, yeah, of course. I forgot about them.”

Jack was still watching him, brow furrowed, as he came to kneel next to the couch, “And then I’ve got to explain to my team that I need to take some personal time.”

He looked up, unable to disguise the hope in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, an incredulous smile playing out on his face, “I’m thinking of going travelling with a friend, if the offer is still open.”

He shrugged, looking down, trying to fight the ridiculous grin that threatened to split his face in two, “I have been looking for someone to, you know, carry the heavy stuff, do the running about. I’m getting old, you see-”

Jack cut him off with a kiss, or a half kiss, since he was still smiling too much for it to be much of a real kiss.

“God, you’re an idiot sometimes,” he breathed, before standing up, straightening his shirt and running a hand through his hair, “Right, back in a jiffy. City to save, you know how it is.”

The Doctor watched him scoop his coat off the floor and disappear out the door. Leaning back, he let his arm fall over his eyes, his body still loose and pleasantly warm, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think of where they could go next. There was a whole universe waiting for them, finally, after all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Jack is drugged non-consensually with a truth serum that affects his impulse control. He kisses The Doctor under the influence, although The Doctor doesn't reciprocate. Later, as the drug begins to wear off, Jack becomes tactile and over affectionate. While The Doctor doesn't act on Jack's advances, he realises he would like to. No sexual content occurs while any character is under the influence.


End file.
